


Sunshine on My Shoulders

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Beaches, Established Relationship, M/M, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Lestrade's beach holiday is not going quite the way the Detective Inspector had planned and Mycroft shows no remorse over that fact...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine on My Shoulders

      “Mycroft, you can’t do this to me.”

      “Whatever do you mean?”

      “We came all this way for a nice beach holiday and you refuse to come out from under the umbrella.”

      “I was not aware that it was a requirement of our time together that I develop skin cancer.”

      “Being out in the sun for a few hours isn’t going to kill you.  Besides, I did bring you some sunscreen.  SPF Bugger This for that fair skin of yours.”

      “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, my dear, however, I am content where I am.”

      “In the shade.”

      “Yes.”

      “Covered head to toe.”

      “Very good.”

      “With my SPF Bugger This on your face anyway.”

      “It _is_ moisturizing.  I am quite sure I read that on the packaging.”

      “While I’m out here having no one to play with but myself.”

      “Well, if you do choose to play with yourself, Gregory, I will not offer any objection.  This _is_ a private beach, after all.”

      “I should!  Just make you sit there and watch me having all the fun and then where would you be?”

      “Captivated.”

      “You are a devil, Mycroft Holmes.  Fine.  I’ll just be out here swimming and making castles and looking for shells and writing filthy poetry in the sand and I’ll do it all by myself because you are absolutely no fun.”

      “Heavens, when did I adopt such a petulant child?”

      “A year ago tomorrow.”

      “Ah yes… and let us see if I can remember the event.  My tie is too tight, why can’t I have cake now, but it’s only my third glass of champagne, why won’t they play _Free Bird_ , Sherlock’s stolen my ring… “

      “Just you wait until I’m a delicious golden brown and you can’t have a taste.”

      “I _have_ been considering a diet.”

      “ARGH!  Fine.  See if I don’t kick sand on your blanket.”

      “Try not to stub your toe.”

      __________

      “Please.”

      “No.”

      “Come on, we’ve been out here all day and you haven’t left your bunker once.”

      “Gregory, you have collected more than sufficient solar radiation for the both of us.  You could sit here with _me_ , you know.”

      “I have!  I’ve sat here and read and talked and even tried to give you a little cuddle which was _not_ appreciated apparently…”

      “It is far too warm, you are tacky from both perspiration and oil, gritty from the accumulation of salt and sand and are redolent of the ocean water and whatever inhabitants it currently houses.”

      “Wonderful.  I’m sticky, scratchy and smelly.”

      “And, given certain circumstances, that would please me greatly.  However this particular circumstance is not one of them.”

      “Won’t you at least swim with me?  _Some_ of you won’t be in the sun if we just paddle around and…”

      “The relevant parts will be, however.”

      “What?  What do you mean?  Mycroft… why are you blushing?  Stumbled on a little secret, did I?”

      “Nonsense, the heat is simply becoming intolerable.”

      “You’re so cute when you’re too topsy-turvy to lie properly.  Now, tell me what you mean by relevant parts.  I mean, I can think of one, but unless we decide to swim wearing only nature’s bathing togs…”

      “Gregory, if I offer you that ghastly watch you have been coveting, will you let this topic die a peaceful death?”

      “There is nothing wrong with a man wearing a Mickey Mouse watch.  I even said you could get the one with Mickey in his tuxedo because it looked more posh.  And, no… any death will be kicking, screaming and covered in blood.”

      “I see.  You realize this must not extend beyond our marital bond.”

      “Unless you give this up, I’m using our marital bond for a jump rope.”

      “Very well.  I cannot spend time in the sun because…  my melanocytes become, shall we say, over-excited.”

      “Is that a fancy way to say you freckle?”

      “I deplore that term.”

      “Why?  It’s cute!  Mycroft Homes gets freckles, Mycroft Holmes gets freckles…”

      “Do you have to sing?”

      “Oh yeah… I’d dance too, if I didn’t think you’d try to do a runner on me.”

      “I _am_ swift of foot, when it is required.”

      “Mycroft, you know there’s nothing wrong with getting freckles, don’t you?”

      “My dear, I am called to do many things for the Crown, all of which would be made infinitely more difficult by a freckled nose.”

      “You mean you can’t browbeat some warlord if he’s playing connect-the-dots with your face.”

      “How colorfully put.”

      “I bet your shoulders get it too, don’t they?”

      “Miserably.”

      “And… oh ho… just how ginger does your hair go?”

      “I refuse to speak of it.”

      “That much, huh.”

      “ _Refuse_ , Gregory.”

      “Mycroft Holmes, master of the free world becomes a freckly ginger when he takes a bit of sun.”

      “Deliver your scorn now, so that we may continue our holiday unimpeded.”

      “I’ve never… god that’s a sexy image.”

      “What?”

      “Beautiful red hair and little speckles on your skin like tiny flakes of snow on your coat.  That does deserve some connect-the-dots… a long evening of just letting my tongue run over you, drawing pictures on your skin.”

      “Oh… well.  I had no idea…”

      “I mean, I understand your point.  There’s lads on the job who are as ginger as a Weasley, with freckles to boot, and they do have a harder time of it.  But maybe… let’s say for our fifth, we take a full month off and you let me worship you in the sun during the day and indulge my creative side at night.  All those lovely pictures in all those lovely freckles…”

      “Our fifth, you say.  That does give me sufficient time to plan for the absence.”

      “Then it’s a date?”

      “I do not see why not.  It _is_ my greatest joy to provide you pleasure, my dear.”

      “Then I get my watch?”

      “If you’re a good boy.”


End file.
